


Caleb's Lament

by DOOMLover21



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28519908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DOOMLover21/pseuds/DOOMLover21
Summary: Caleb's self-reflection on seeing Jester and Fjord together.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Caleb's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to just be a way to get all this angst about Fjord and Jester out of my system. This is sort of a part of a companion piece from Jester's perspective that I may or may not finish. This took a turn towards the end that I wasn't expecting but am very happy with.

**Caleb's Lament**

**AN** **:** **This was originally meant to just be a way to get all this angst about Fjord and Jester out of my system. This is sort of a part of a companion piece from Jester's perspective that I may or may not finish. This took a turn towards the end that I wasn't expecting but am very happy with.**

He should've seen this coming. Should've known that he had been hoping too hard for something that wasn't meant to be. He shouldn't have allowed himself to even consider for a moment that he was deserving of her.

Of course, she would drift towards the handsome half-orc. She had already made her feelings for him very clear a long time ago in a run-down tavern on the pirate-infested island of Darktow. And who was he to think that he was any more deserving than their charming captain?

He was no one. A murderer. An assassin. A terrible human being. And she had begun to make him question all of that. He had only recently begun pondering whether or not he had been wrong about himself this whole time. She had done that to him.

She had led him to believe that perhaps he wasn't beyond all help. That perhaps he could still consider himself to be a good person. And if she could look past what he had done and forgive him for it then there was a hint of a possibility that he could do the same in turn. And then even possibly, he could've seen a future with the little blue tiefling.

But not anymore. Not after what he had seen. It was clear that she had made her choice. He could still see the two of them so vividly in his mind's eye. His accursed keen mind remembered every tiny detail to the letter.

How peacefully she slept, how her hair so gracefully flowed out around her, how her longer horns laid down so gently on Fjord's shoulder. His mind kept recalling it all to absolute perfection. But she had made her choice, and if she was happy with it then he would be too. After all, he didn't really deserve to have her return his affections.

But his heart wouldn't permit him any rest. His heart repeated a painfully pleasant series of events and looks and moments he had shared with her. He desperately tried to silence it, as he so often had tried in the past. But he knew by now that there would be no way to quiet his love, his adoration, his feelings.

He knew that it was a useless endeavor to think of himself and Jester as one, but his heart still ached for her. It yearned for her, and the more he got to know her and the more he interacted with her the more it yearned for that which it could not have. Even now with the knowledge of Fjord and Jester's shared feelings, his heart called out in agony for her.

He supposed that this was his punishment for doing the unthinkable, unforgivable act oh so long ago. But wasn't it better this way? Jester would be happy and wasn't that all that he wanted in the end?

Not long ago he had been content to simply love the mischievous tiefling from afar. Were this still true he could be happy and rest in the knowledge that she was happy and taken care of. He wasn't so sure that this was what he wanted anymore. Being with her; comforting her; supporting her; laughing with her; creating with her; hell, even being near her; it all felt so right.

It pained him how right it all felt. How comfortable he was with her. And she understood him. Understood him in a way that even Astrid failed to. He had even shared his favorite book with her, something that previously only his late parents had shared with him.

He hadn't expected her to bring up the book, nor had he been expecting her at his door the night he read it to her. He had eagerly offered to read it, and he didn't regret it one bit, especially when it seemed to make her so happy. Her reactions during and after the reading were etched on the inside of his mind and heart. He had known that she would enjoy the story, and part of it was of its similarity to her own life.

She had loved all of it and seeing the adoration and joy on her face had made him melt. It was almost too much to think about. Plus, Jester had made reference to it, and unprompted at that. It had made his heart leap into his throat and a warmth to fill him from the inside out.

But then not long after he had seen **that.** He just had to have seen it. He couldn't help but replay that moment, that singular moment over and over ad nauseum. The part of him that still didn't feel worthy of any of them pined for the punishment. It yearned for it, wanted it, actively sought it.

That part of him laughed at his stupidity. It jeered at his love and adoration for all of them, but of Jester especially and especially now knowing what he knows. Her laughter, her closeness, her gentle touch, and sly smiles and coy glances had kept the cackling at bay up until now.

But surely, he could stamp them down again. He had been doing a hell of a job of it so far. But of course, most of that was because of her. Because of Jester.

She was the light of his life. Of all their lives really. Perhaps that's why Fjord had become so taken with her as well. He wasn't ignorant of his or Beau's feelings building for their tiefling friend. And hadn't he not long ago thought of either of them as the better choice for her?

So, what changed? What had made him think that he stood a chance with her? Surely, he hadn't changed anything about himself to make him any more worthy of her. But she had changed him, hadn't she?

He was so sure back then. So sure that he would never love again. Love? Hell, he had been so convinced that he would never even smile again let alone allow himself to love. But she had been the one to change that.

Obviously, he knew that she wasn't the first one to get him to smile after his ordeal in the Sanitorium. Nott…Veth…had been the first in the Nein to do that. He had been a reluctant smile, though. And not a very happy one either.

No. His first happy smile was with her. At her. She caught him off-guard and he couldn't help himself. He could never help himself when it came to her. She was always finding ways to worm her way into his heart or ways to catch him off-kilter. And he found himself enjoying it. Enjoying it and her company.

But didn't everyone feel that way about her? Didn't she do that same sort of dance with everyone she met? Catch them off-guard and make friends with the unfriendable? Of course, she had. She was the girl to change an arch fey into a god. And she had changed him from a miserable man to a man who was even now trying to think of ways to make her see how deeply he felt for her.

He knew that it was stupid. It was stupid to even try and think of. She had made her decision and he would stand by and support her and be happy for her. He knew that in spite of this that he would still try to woe her. He couldn't help it.

The more he tried to stamp down on his feelings for her and crush them underneath his boot, the more they bubbled to the surface. Soon enough they would overflow, and everyone would see them, if they didn't already, that is. Would she accept him?

She already accepted the horrible part of him. Accepted the horrible, terrible thing that he had done. She had held him tight as he cried. He had told her he was a murderer and all she did was feel sorry for him. Feel sorry for what he went through and supported him. She supported him in the same way that he tried to support her.

It had only made him fall deeper. Deeper and deeper into the pit of love and hope and desire that was his perpetual state when in her presence. It wouldn't take long for that pit to be inescapable. Though, he was fairly certain that that point had long since passed.

He wasn't certain when it had passed. Nor was he certain exactly when he had fallen into this pit. Or even when she had begun to occupy his thoughts and dreams. And she did.

The mischievous cleric occupied most of his waking thoughts and even a fair few of his dreams. He would never actively try to chase her out. Though he did delight in the thought that she would turn it into a game should he try to.

A game or a dance. A dance. It always came back to dancing with her. That drunken waltz with her had been the beginning of the end for him. She had led him through most of that dance. Led him straight to that pit she had already started digging. He had been too drunk to resist and too in love with the feeling of love and affection to protest.

But it had helped him, hadn't it? She had indeed changed him. Transformed him into the first stage of the man he wanted to be. The man she deserved to be with. She had even made him begin to believe that he could be that man for her.

But could he really? Could a murderer really become a good man? He wasn't convinced, but he was trying. And so long as there was still hope and love in his heart, so long as there was her, he would continue trying.

It was a shame really that Jester had chosen to further her relationship with Fjord. He wasn't sure exactly what she saw in him, but if she was happy with this decision, he would support her in it. That was what a good man would do, wasn't it? What a good friend would do?

And he was a good friend to her. And she was an equally good friend in return. If only Fjord hadn't gotten there first. If that hadn't have happened, if she hadn't have met him first, Jester might just be nestled beside him instead.

Or perhaps if he had been quicker to insist on taking a watch with her, he could've done what he had been wanting to. For several days now, he had been working up the nerve to somehow make his feelings for her known. Maybe he would kiss her, or bring her in close and hold her tight, or perhaps it would be better if he just told her of his deep burning love. Anyway would be fine, if only he had the courage to do so.

But he didn't have the courage. If he did, he would have already done it. Despite this, his love still ached for release. It demanded to be known and reciprocated. But there was no way that she would reciprocate, especially now.

She was in love with Fjord, not him. But she sure made it hard to remember that when she was flirting with him, and sharing coy looks with him, and giving him soft smiles. And hadn't she been complimenting him and reaching for him and protecting him lately? Like she had done for Fjord when she was crushing on him…. Oh no, could it be? No, surely, he was imagining things. She couldn't be falling for him back.

He wasn't the handsome fairytale hero that she dreamed of. He couldn't wield a sword, and he was so weak and frail that there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that he was no hero. He was a skinny man who would be more at home with his books and cats and a roaring fire than in the field of battle with a sword and shield.

But she liked reading too. And she liked his cats, or at least the ones in the tower, and of course, she had to like the best cat in the whole world, Frumpkin. And didn't she enjoy sitting by the fire and quietly drawing or reading?

Images of the pair sharing a quiet night with a multitude of cats in front of a blazing fire, him quietly reading a new book while she drew the scene in her sketchbook bombarded him. He had to shake his head to will them away. The act didn't work as the images came back fast and more intense than before. He imagined her sidling up beside him and leaning against him, her tail suggestively curling around his leg.

He tried to will away the image, but he couldn't. It wouldn't leave him no matter how hard he tried. A squeezing sensation on his leg brought him out of his thoughts and he glanced down to see the offending snake of blue there. He blinked hard and rubbed at his eyes.

"You okay, Cayleb? You fell asleep and were saying things, like, in your sleep and stuff," the Nicodranian asked from beside him. He side-eyed her and his breathing pitched upwards as he saw her holding onto his arm. How long had she been there? It wasn't often that he lost track of time, but if he truly had been asleep then perhaps that explained it.

"Ja…Ja…I am okay…" he started with. He ran his free hand through his hair. It sure was getting long, not that he minded. The longer it got, the most likely it would be that Jester would braid it again. He shook his head. Had to get that line of thinking out of there before it took root again.

She looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. His attempt to refocus had obviously had the obverse effect on her. He could say or ask so many different things to get her mind off of him and her concern. But what could he do to distract her?

"So, what sort of things was I saying?" he decided on.

"Ooooooohhhhh…All sorts of things."

"Like what?" he pressed.

"I don't know. You were, liiiiiiike, speaking Zemnian the whole time." She looked disappointed. He was relieved that she hadn't been able to understand any of the possibly harmful things that he had been unknowingly saying.

"Were you having a bad dream?" she asked softly. The way her eyes and face softened made him melt. He shook his head.

"Nein…It was a good dream…I think," he told her. He could still see the images of him and Jester cuddled up. He wished that she would lay her head on him just like in the dream.

"Oh! Okay! Good!" she chirped. A yawn escaped her, which he echoed. Then as if she had read his mind, she scooted closer and held his arm in hers as she laid her head on his shoulder. The bare fireplace of his room crackled, illuminating the room and the beginnings of a painting forming above the mantle. He wasn't sure exactly what it was supposed to be of just yet, but he was sure that whatever she had decided that he would love it.

He was starting to feel tired himself, and another yawn escaped his lips. Very carefully as to not disturb Jester he laid his head on the pillow beside the arm of the couch they'd been sharing. He felt the rumbling of Frumpkin purring from his perch on the top of the couch. He gave the cat a tired but grateful smile. He was glad the little fey seemed to approve. The last thing he swore he saw before sleep took him was an orange-haired fey tip-toeing over and very gently covering Jester with the quilt from his bed. He could've sworn he saw the fey give him a thumbs up and a sly smile, but he wasn't sure if he just imagined it or not.


End file.
